Musings
by Alcamenes
Summary: R/Hr--Introspection on Hermione's part about her relationship with Ron, and how she wishes it were more. Added a chapter from Harry's point of view*Complete*
1. Ron & Hermione

A/N: Here is the re-post of my earlier fic Musings which is basically just a lot of introspection on both of Hermione's and Ron's parts. It's very angsty, and nothing that hasn't been done before, but it's just my take on what's going on inside their heads. Set some time after GoF.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

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Musings

Hermione:

All it takes is a look, a touch, or even a snide comment once in a while. What would I do without you, I wonder? I know that my life wouldn't have even an ounce of the spark it does now. I know that I would have probably worked myself into the ground if you hadn't been there to take my mind off schoolwork..even though half the time you didn't even know you were doing it. I don't think I really learned to live until I met you.

Now here's the part that makes me sad..no matter how much I love thinking about you, it eventually comes to the part where I wonder—about me, you, _us_—and it always ends up with my crying. Do you know how many times I've cried because of you? Sure, that time in first year before you rescued me from the troll is probably the first to pop into your mind, but that's nothing compared to how heartbroken I am when I come to my senses and realize we'll never be together.

You're 'Ron,' my best friend; you're the one who sacrificed himself in a game of chess so that our best friend could finish and move on. You're the one who stood up to what you thought was a murderer…on a shattered tibia no less…and who was ready to die for Harry, to put yourself in front of him, and still you're the boy who can only think of himself as "Harry Potter's best friend" or "Bill and Charlie's younger brother." You don't know your own worth, and sometimes I just want to scream because you're so much more than Harry or I could ever wish to be and you don't realize it. Harry's famous, and I'm the head of the class, but you, you're—_you_. Words can't begin to convey how special you are, how lost we'd all be without you, and I love you for it. I love you so much it hurts, hurts so much that sometimes I think I'm going to explode from the pain if I can't see you, or talk to you, or even fight with you. I'm laughing now, because I can just imagine the look on your face if you ever found out that more often than not I start those rows on purpose. Sometimes it's all I can do to stop myself from telling you everything.

I don't know when it all changed, when my feelings of friendship turned into my not being able to breathe or think properly until I've seen you in the morning. Part of me thinks that I grew into loving you, that it was a gradual occurrence. The other part of me knows that that isn't true. I didn't "grow" into loving you, I didn't "grow" into anything. I've loved you from the very first time I saw you, trying-out that ridiculous spell on what we all thought was a rat; I took one look at you from your fiery red mane to that spot of dirt on your nose, and I fell. I'm still falling. Every day I look at you and I love you a little more. Every day I fall a little deeper and every day the pain becomes more and more unbearable. How am I going to live the rest of my life knowing that we'll never be together? This is the part where the tears start falling, the part where I cry myself to sleep, the part where Parvati and Lavender knew not to bother me even though they could hear the sobs coming from behind the curtains of my bed when we were still at school.

How could you ever look at me as anything other than a large-toothed (even though I fixed that ages ago), bushy-haired workaholic? You have a better chance of kissing Malfoy full on the mouth than you do of ever seeing me the way I want you to—as a girl you could see yourself spending the rest of your life with, one you could see as more than a friend, one you might actually find beautiful. This is where I cry because I know it will never happen. You, you grew-up to be handsome, and funny, and self-assured. Me, I only pretend to be all those things because it's the only way I know to hide what I really feel: scared and alone.

You and Harry, you're my best friends; nothing can change that, and when it comes to Harry I'm content. He's like a brother to me, and God knows he tries his best; I love him dearly for that, but not the way that I love you. You probably have no idea how many nights Harry's stayed up, listening to my non-sensical ramblings about you. He's never said anything, never offered any advice. He's very diplomatic that way; it drives me up the walls sometimes. He was there when I needed him; he's still here, and he knows that this is something I have to work out for myself. Still, sometimes I wish I knew what he thinks about this. Sometimes I wish he would tell me what he thinks I should do.

You know, it's kind of funny because this is the only time in my life that I've had the urge to go against what my head is telling me to do. Every fiber of my being is telling me to talk to you, to come clean and tell you how I feel. For once in my life I'm tempted to go against all rules of common sense, against everything my brain is saying, and I'm almost tempted to go find you right now. Sometimes I could swear that you feel the same way, that you know the pain I'm going through because you're going through the same thing. Sometimes I lay in bed at night thinking of something you've said (because I remember everything you've ever said to me), of the nuances your voice took, of how your eyes sparkled in the firelight or how you put your hand on my arm and kept it there just a fraction of a second longer than you had to, and I tell myself that I'm making too much out of nothing, that you couldn't possibly feel the same way. But then, on those nights when the tears come and I start believing that we'll never be together, that you'll never see me the way that I see you and that you'll never love me the way that I love you, well then I just remember that look, that touch, or even that snide comment, and I smile. Because, through all those tears, I realize that everything's going to be okay, because you're in my life; you're here and I love you, and for now that's all I need.

Ron:

You make me so mad sometimes! I can't help it; with anyone else I wouldn't get so riled up but with you, it's different. When it comes to you I actually care what you think, and I hate it when we fight, but sometimes the words just come out of my mouth. Sometimes getting angry is the only way I can forget how I really feel because I'm scared to death of everything going on inside my head…and inside my heart. And, even though I've always felt I could tell you everything, I know I can't tell you this.

Sometimes I wonder about the way you look at me, how your eyes seem to look right through me. Your eyes—they're the one part of you that I'll never forget, the one part that's etched into my memory for all time. When you look at me, it's like your eyes can reach to the depths of my soul, and maybe that's why I dream of them so often…not that I don't dream of the rest of you too, but there's just something about your eyes that keep me under your spell.

Lately I've been noticing a change in you; you seem so distant and so sad. I try to talk to you about it but you don't seem to want to tell me. I even asked Harry about you. I'm worried about you—really worried about you—but Harry seems to think you're fine; he just says you've got some things to work out. What does Harry know that I don't, Hermione? What were you able to tell him that you couldn't tell me? Good old Harry; he's like a brother to me, but I'll never quite measure up to him. I'll never be as handsome or as famous as he is; I'll never be as good as he is…I'll never be good enough for you.

I hate that I'm not good at anything except making you yell at me. I wish I were more like Bill; he's the handsome one, the popular one who gets everything he wants. All I want is simple: all I want is _you_. I have a funny way of showing it, though, don't I? In first year, I honestly thought you were a bit of a know-it-all, and when I told Harry those things about you, part of me really did mean them. I didn't think you'd hear me, and when you did I felt horrible. When that troll nearly did you in I was terrified; I couldn't bear to think that the last thing I might have said to you was something so horrid. I hate the thought of making you cry, but I know I sometimes do it without realizing it. You'd think I'd have learned by now, wouldn't you? But even I realize that when it comes to you, I come horribly unprepared. I didn't realize that I love you, that I've _always_ loved you, until I was faced with the fact that I'm not the only guy in your life (gee, well spotted Ron, I know) but seeing you with Viktor Krum, it made me see a lot of things. It made me see things like the fact that you're beautiful and that any guy in his right mind would line up around the block if it meant getting a chance to know you.

But how do you react when people tell you you're pretty? You dismiss them like they're only humoring you, and that may be what I love most about you. You don't realize how incredible you are, how you light up any room you walk into. You may be the smartest witch I know, but you're also one of the most selfless, most caring and loving, and nurturing and unbelievably wonderful, and I love you for it…so much, but I'll never be enough for you.

Sometimes, that's all I can do to stop myself from reaching out and cupping your face, from lowering my lips to yours. I constantly have to remind myself that I'm not dreaming, and that we aren't really together. Sometimes, though, I forget myself; I tuck that stray piece of hair behind your ear, or I touch your arm while we talk and it feels so much better than what a thousand dreams could conjure up and I pull away because I get scared. Sometimes I wonder if you could ever feel the way that I do, but then I'll see you and Harry huddled in deep conversation and I'm reminded of just how inadequate I really am. I know Harry and you are only friends—Harry's even admitted to having some stray feelings for Ginny—but I still can't help but feel jealous when I see you whispering to him with your eyes all bloodshot and his arm around your shoulders, comforting you. Why can't you come to me for that? Why can't it be me with my arms around you? More than anything I wish I could hold you, I wish I could be the one to kiss your tears away and whisper soothing words in your hair.

I don't think I even know any soothing words, but if they were for you I know some would come to me. You're everything I live for, my will to breathe, and smile, and laugh. You're my inspiration, my very own living muse. I know that no other girl on the planet would ever have me _thinking_ like this much less _acting_ like a total prat around her. You don't seem to notice, though, but then again I suppose you're used to my being a prat.

Bloody hell, Hermione; you know, those are the exact words I said when I realized I was in love with you. It was the night after the Yule ball. You and I had that horrible shouting match down in the common room, and all I could think of when I went up to bed that night was the image of you and Krum dancing and how all I wanted to do was stick one on him although I really didn't know why; but, then it dawned on me—you , my best friend, were actually so much more to me; my feelings for you delved so much deeper than just friendship, and everything came rushing back to me: little things I said or did, the time you were petrified by the Basilisk and how for one terrifying moment I thought I'd lost you. I think I was too young back then to fully understand what it was that I'd realized, but now I know that loving you means more than just my ears turning red every time you walk into the room. You're the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep at night. When I walk down the street and see a head of brown hair, my heart skips a beat; when an owl comes to my window and I see your neat handwriting (no matter how messy you think it is) it doesn't matter how miserable I might have been just a second before because my day's been instantly brightened.

If only you knew, Hermione, how you make me feel. You know I've actually considered telling you before? Harry seems to think it's a good idea although where you're concerned he never comes right out and tells me anything. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in his head…he seems to know a lot more than he lets on: kind of like Dumbledore that one, isn't he? Still, something inside of me tells me that I should pluck up the courage, once and for all, and tell you how I really feel. I don't know if I can last much longer with all these feelings held-up inside of me. I don't know how much longer I can stop myself from taking you in my arms. Still, the thought of losing you, of knowing for certain what I already know—that you'll never look at me the way that I look at you and that you'll never love me the way that I love you—that's always enough to stop me, because no matter how much it hurts not to be able to tell you how I feel, it doesn't even compare to the pain I know would come if I couldn't have you in my life, see you and talk to you every day. I would die if I couldn't have you beside me, even if we do fight all the time.

Sometimes I almost think that you feel the same way—_almost_—and those times when your eyes dart across the room and settle on me, your beautiful dark hazelnut eyes, those times stay with me for weeks after and even though I know that the hope I feel is only wishful thinking, I can't help but think that someday, somehow, things will work out. But until then, the image of your beautiful face floats through my head and I smile because I love you, and you're a part of my life, and no matter how miserable the prospect of a life without you may be, for now I have all I need.


	2. Harry

A/N: Here's a kind of second part from Harry's PoV. This wasn't included in the original story but it's something I'd been working on, and apparantly forgot all about until I stumbled upon it in my files today.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

Harry:

To anyone else but me it would seem like any other normal afternoon: Ron sorting through his Wizard Card collection, and Hermione reading another one of her books. To any one else, it would seem as if each were enthralled in his or her own activity, not so much as thinking about the other. Of course, I'm not every one else. I'm the Boy Who Lived, and in this case, the boy who's survived all of Ron and Hermione's fights. Honestly I don't know why they don't tell each other how they feel; is it only obvious to me how they feel? Do they really not see what's in front of their faces? Look at them now, for example; Ron's been holding that Morgana card for an hour, and Hermione's been on the same page for just as long. They keep stealing these little glances at each other when the other isn't looking, and from the pink of Ron's ear, or the way Hermione's been twirling that strand of hair between her fingers, for once I know it's not because they've had a row and are secretly wishing the other hexed.

I know that as a friend, I should just tell them what's happening, but I can't. I've been sworn to secrecy by both of them, and being the friend that I am I can't break the promises I've made…they're both my best friends, I love them both. Sometimes, I wish I weren't such a good guy; sometimes I actually wish that maybe I'd taken a page out of Malfoy's book and become a bit less trustworthy, a bit less humble. Of course, if being like Malfoy means looking like Malfoy, then I'm just dandy the way I am, thank you very much.

Last night was a tough one to go through, though. I know Ron knows something's going on with Hermione; he's asked me about her more than once. He's worried about her, I can tell, but what am I supposed to tell him? Gee, Ron, there's nothing wrong with Hermione; she was just crying because she's in love with you and thinks you can't possibly love her back. Yeah, that would go over really well on Hermione's part. And, of course when Hermione was crying on my shoulder for the fourth time in as many days, asking why it is that Ron keeps picking fights with her, why it is that he just can't seem to see her for what she is, and why she had to go falling in love with a boy who would never love her back, what was I supposed to say? That Ron really does love her? That the only reason he starts all those fights with her is because he's barking mad in love with her, and that he doesn't know how to react to it? How he's a prat and it's the only way he knows to express that he cares about her? I wish…it would be so much easier that way. 

I'm stuck in the middle, stuck being the person they both go to with their problems, the one they go to, to talk about the other, meanwhile not knowing that if they just stopped for a second and looked at each other, that all of their problems would be answered…so would mine. I love them, I've said that already, but it's true. Hermione is like the sister I've never had. When I think of how jealous Ron was last year when he thought that I fancied her and that I'd been secretly dating her (darn that Rita Skeeter), I can't help but want to laugh, no matter how much I had to go through because of that. Still, why he would think that I would fancy Hermione is beyond me. She's great, she's wonderful, but she's _Hermione_ and honestly, I don't think that I could stand her if I had to date her, and I say that with all due respect. In fact, I don't think that there's anyone better suited for each other than Ron and Hermione. I don't think that there's anyone I'd rather see together than the two of them. Ron deserves it; he deserves the best in the world, the best that the world can offer him. He deserves happiness, and prestige, and riches; he's the best person that I've ever met. He goes through a lot more than he lets on, and even though he has his moments (but hell, we've all got our moments), I know that there's no one who's as loyal as he is. I think that that incident with Sirius proved that. He was ready to throw himself in front of a murderer for me, ready to give his life for mine; I will never forget that; I will never forget him…either of them. They're my best friends; not only that, they're my family, and that's why I can't go back on my word to either of them. I can't betray Hermione and tell Ron that she loves him just like I can't betray Ron and tell Hermione the same thing. I can just hope that they snap out of it and realize what's right in front of their faces, and moments like these, when I see them throwing those little glances at each other, when they look at each other and smile, _really_ smile, it gives me hope that maybe, just maybe they're not as clueless as I think they are, that it's only a matter of time before they let their feelings out and realize that what they've both been wishing for is right there in front of them. They need each other, and I need them; they're my best friends, they'll always be my best friends, and I love them. They're my family.


End file.
